


The Sacrifice I Was Willing to Make

by orphan_account



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Bottom Peter Parker, Come Swallowing, Consensual Underage Sex, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Depression, Gang Violence, Hurt Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Incest, Multi, Murder, Murderers, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Pedophilia, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Praise Kink, Precious Peter Parker, Prostitution, Protective Quentin Beck, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23390344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Peter Parker, a 16 year old boy who just wants a normal lifeQuentin Beck, a 22 year old guy who just wants to love someone.Two on the run, place to place living criminals who want something more.READ THE TAGS! DO NOT READ IF YOU GET TRIGGERED BY THINGS IN THE TAGS!
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Kudos: 11





	The Sacrifice I Was Willing to Make

"I don't care what you do with it! Burn it! Sorry but I have to go!" My arm was tugged as Quentin ran from the approaching sirens, the cops on our trail. I couldn't go on like this... no sleep, killing people, running on Monster energy drinks and Red Bull. 

I had gotten used to it, the hiding bodies. Just as we left the other guy to do. Because in this world, it's survival of the fittest. The guy was dragging us down. We cut him loose. 

My feet hit the pavement, the sound of thunder cracking the sky filling my ears and I am reminded of my childhood days. The ones where I was locked in the closet upstairs for hours, the dark haunting me. 

"Beck-" I am cut off by the sound of a gun cocking, the shell being locked into place. "Quentin fucking Beck." His voice is just how I remember it. Cold and gravely.

"Wait! Please don't shoot!" I found myself begging for Quentin. Why couldn't Beck be normal and fend for himself in these moments? He wasn't afraid to beat your ass if you looked at him wrong, but if you put a gun to his head he glared at you for 'disrupting his evening'. As if that was nonchalant. 

"For a cop, you break a lot of rules." Beck says, gritting his teeth. I cower behind him. His strong, broad shoulders and muscular back easily shielding me from the guy with a gun. I want to cry. I usually cry, but now wasn't the time. 

I was afraid. I was afraid because the guy I really loved might die. Because he's an idiot. I want to scream. "And ya little boy toy, huh." He said, his thick accent sounding a bit like an Italian grandpa. I would've laughed if I wasn't to busy fearing for Beck's life for him. 

"You gonna shoot me? So what? You'll have to find a way to make it seem like it wasn't your fault." Quentin said, flirting with death. I hate him so much. 

"You bet your fucking ass I'm gonna shoot you." And before I can even think, I push Quentin behind me, white hot pain spreading through my abdomen and I touch my hand to the spot. Blood. I don't hear anything but ringing and then absolute silence. 

The edges of my vision start to close in on me and my breath slowly slips away. Two strong arms pick me up bridal style, carrying me away. Then I'm consumed by total darkness. 

Slam

Slam

"What the hell are you doing in there!" The door slammed open and my mother's protective arms wrap around me. "You can't hurt him anymore!" Her tired voice called. He grit his teeth. "Maybe not, but I'll kill you." My father said. 

I cowered against my mother as he pressed the cold barrel of a gun against her forehead, staring down at her with lifeless dark eyes that looked like pits in the dark lighting. Sobs wracked my mother's body as she clutched me. 

"What are you gonna do to him." She whispered. He smiled menacingly. "What I did to you." And he grabbed me by my skinny arm and I cried like a baby. "I should have done this a while ago. When he was old enough that I could sell him off." He spat. She trembled.

"You won't do that to him!" She yelped, fear boiling in her expression. He laughed. "I can. And I will." And then he pulled the trigger, a terrified shriek coming from my tiny 6 year old self. 

Red and blue lights casted on the wall just in time and he looked at me, gritting his teeth. "You keep that damn mouth of yours shut. You don't tell them what I did to you now, boy." He said, holding my jaw in his clammy hand. I nodded quickly, fat tears rolling down my chubby cheeks.

Luckily, I was small, adopted quickly. And then my new family gave me everything. Luckily, I barely remembered it after a small while. I was a charming little 8 year old boy, when I met Beck.

"I hope you don't mind watching him. We have a business trip and out of all the people who applied, you seemed the most fitting."

His dark blue eyes looked at me. "No, go, have fun or whatever. Me and Peter will be fine." The scrawny 14 year old said. Quentin Beck. 

"Thank you so much." The couple said in unison. Tony and Stephen. They left and Beck turned to me. "So, what kind of things do you like to do, huh?" He asked, nervously scuffing the wooden floor with his converse. I beamed up at him. "Do you wanna play checkers?" I asked. He smiled. "Sure." He said.

We'd known each other back then for only 2 years before I ran away from that luxurious house at 10 years old and ended up taken in by some gang. Turns out that Beck and I met again when I was 15. And he looked a lot different. And he was 21. 

In exchange for the gang taking me in, I kinda did a little prostitute job for them and paid them half the money I got from it. And Quentin came along and...

And we didn't recognise each other at first and he paid me 20 bucks for a sloppy fuck in a dirty ass motel. 

It was weird with Jake because to him, I was not an object, he acted like I was actually a person... He knew my age when we did it, but it was still special to me. Maybe I was a minor and it was illegal and shit, but I was so happy to be treated like a human and not a toy. 

I noted the way he delicately touched me. The way he acted like I would break and I liked it. Nobody treated me with care or made me feel loved. They made it feel like what it was... just a job. But not Quentin Beck. 

He panted under me on the bed, his hair messy and tangled, his eyes screwed shut, his lips parted and he moved my hips for me. "Nngh-" I moaned, arching my back as he lifted me up a tad and then slammed me back down on his thick cock. 

"Ah-" He suddenly flipped us over so that he was on top of me. He lifted my legs, spreading them wide before thrusting into me, faster and harder than before, countless wails being pushed right from my throat. "I'm gonna cum, daddy-" He grabbed my length and slowly rubbed his thumb over the tip.

That did it for me, I came over my stomach and he kept ramming into me with a lot of force before cumming into my hole. He didn't pull out immediately. He layed on top of me, our hips still slightly moving against each other. 

"What's your name?" He panted, grabbing his 20 dollar bill off the side table. "Peter." I said, taking the money. He jolted, pulling out of my used hole, launching himself from the bed, blanket still attached to him and he screeched. 

That made me screech. "Peter?!" He grabbed my face with both of his hands and he looked at me as I sat there, frightened and confused. "Peter Parker?" He whispered. How did he know my name? I trembled just a tad, holding the money between two fingers and he pulled his hands back, rubbing his face. "Oh my god." He clenched his jaw.

"W-what?" I stammered. He swallowed. "You're all grown up..." He squeaked and the facts hit me like a bus. "Beck?!" He nodded guilty before grabbing his clothes swiftly. "Where are you going?" I asked, kinda disappointed. 

"Hell!" He cries. I stood up and grabbed his arms. "But Quentin... I... please don't leave me." I found myself begging for Beck. He flattened his shirt on his soft belly. "You were 8 years old, Peter." He whines. "I met you when you were 8." I lean up and kiss his soft lips anyway. "But I'm not 8 anymore... I'm 15."

He grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me back, passionately. "You have a job... to be with other people and I don't want to share." He said, looking away. "If you were mine, I wouldn't want you to be with someone else. Just me." He said. 

"Well... lucky for you... I'm a luxury that few can afford..." I say. I would have to escape my gang family, they would hate me for not making money for them. But I was in love with Beck and he was in love with me.

**Author's Note:**

> Eek I hope you guys aren't mad at me...


End file.
